


The Cruel Wars (In The Wild Outer Rim)

by Eisenschrott



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisenschrott/pseuds/Eisenschrott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Imperial officer on leave, his nightmare-harried young son, and a monster under the bed. The monster never stood a chance, but lingering frontline memories are not so easily disposed of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cruel Wars (In The Wild Outer Rim)

A hand shook Max awake. His first conscious thought was that his ADC was being unusually gentle; therefore, nothing urgent must be requiring his attention. Not an emergency klaxon blared, no blaster fire rent the air.

“What is it?” he muttered, eyes shut to burn out every last milligram of sleep.

“Mom…?” The voice, thin and sobbing, was his son’s.

Max’s eyes snapped open. The city light that cracked through the window sketched out the interior of a tastefully furnished bedroom; flowers filled the Alderaanian porcelain vase on the dresser—he’d bought them on the way home from the spaceport.

Home, he reminded himself. Denon. On leave.

He sighed in relief, but it made Zev flinch and back off from the bedside.

“It’s alright,” said Max in his most soothing tone, “it’s me. Dad.” It hurt to say it. Though he couldn’t blame a four-years-old who only saw his father in person every six months at best. “Sorry I scared you.”

Next to him under the blanket, Eliana stirred. “Maxie, is it morning?”

He bent down and brushed a handful of reddish curls off her cheek. “Not yet. Keep sleeping, dear.”

“Hmm-hm.”

He pulled the blanket on her further up, and slid out of bed. Zev immediately held onto his leg; stars, the boy was shaking. His first instinct was to turn on the light, but then he just checked his forehead (normal temperature) and the pulse in his neck (accelerated). He scooped Zev in his arms and tiptoed out of the bedroom.

Once the door slid closed behind him and the corridor light was on, he asked, “Aren’t you feeling well? What’s wrong?”

The boy threw his arms around his neck. Max felt wet on his shoulder through the pyjama. “Zev, what happened?” he asked in Captain Veers’ voice, and Zev immediately responded to it, “There’s a monster in my room.”

Max shot a puzzled look at the door of Zev’s room. Thankfully, the kid couldn’t see it. “Is it still there?”

“Yes.” Zev pressed his tiny, soft face tighter to the crook of Max’s neck.

“Hiding under the bed?”

“You know the monster?”

Max held back a laugh. _Well, according to your grandmother it scared the piss out of me when I was your age_. “I fought monsters of that kind on Charros.”

Zev pulled away and regarded him with a raised brow. A strangely mature expression on the reddened, tear-stricken face of a child.

“Do you still have that blaster toy gun?”

Zev pursed his lips. “But it’s a _toy_!”

Oh. Right. Brilliant fatherhood work here. He hurried to make up as best as he could, “Not if you take the safety off.” With that, he strode towards the boy’s room. Behind him he heard Zev gasp. Good thing he couldn’t see him smile.

The light from the corridor was enough to locate the toy blaster. He put up a bit of show and pew-pew noises, firing rounds in the dark and switching to full auto to sweep the area under the bed; he re-emerged with a stuffed bantha in one hand, the blaster in the other.

Zev had stayed back past the threshold, sitting huddled to the door jamb with his eyes squeezed shut and hands clamped over his ears.

“The target has been annihilated.”

Zev cracked an eye open at him, then hid his face between his knees. He might have stopped crying, but was shaking harder.

Max tossed the blaster and went to squat in front of him. “Zev? Hey, look at me.” It usually worked on soldiers who needed to be distracted from staring at the place where one of their limbs used to be. It didn’t on the kid. Fair enough, Max thought; he was his father, not his commander. He poked the snout of the stuffed bantha between Zev’s knees. “I rescued this friend of yours before the monster ate him.”

After a bit more poking Zev peeked up, and snatched the bantha off Max’s hand to clutch it to his chest.

“It’s safe in there now. I made sure it is.” One day, he was going to say the same about the whole galaxy. One day. And Zev didn’t budge. Except for the tremble.

“Alright…” Max picked him up again and walked to the living room, managing to keep a curse behind his teeth when, in the unfamiliar terrain of his own house, he stubbed a toe against a piece of furniture. He sat down on the sofa and eased Zev onto his lap. He’d grown up so much, now his dangling feet touched the cushion.

Eli would know what to do to make him stop shaking. To make the fear go away. He stroked Zev’s hair and held him a bit closer, careful not to crush him and ready to ease the pressure at the slightest wince or noise of discomfort.

A lot like Charros, after all. That summer night when he’d visited the wounded of his company; the medical officer had looked at Sergeant Lanne on the bunk, then at Captain Veers, and just shaken her head. The captain had sat next to Lanne, told her a few raunchy jokes, hummed her favourite tune which she could not sing along to with shrapnel in her lungs, and promised he’d look after her wife—everyone in the company knew Lanne didn’t even have a girlfriend.

Zev was shaking a little less. It struck Max he should say something calming, but what? Not war stories, if his reaction to the shootout had been any indication.

“And when my baby it is born and smiling on my knee,” Max quietly sang, “I’ll think of my true love in the wild Outer Rim…” This line was towards the end of the song, so he started over from the first stanza. It wasn’t his plan to cradle Zev, but the tapping of his foot saw to that, and the boy didn’t protest.

By the end of the song, Zev was—

“Is he asleep?”

Max turned, mortified. “I was too loud, wasn’t I? Sorry I woke you up.”

Eli had thrown a robe over her light, short and revealing nightgown. Pity. The fleeting speckle of disappointment was brushed off at once, when she bent over the back of the sofa and kissed his awaiting mouth. He knew it wasn’t because of him that her eyes were closed. And he couldn’t have cared less.

She gently broke the kiss and whispered to his ear, “Do I take him back to bed?”

“I will.”

She gave him a peck on the earlobe, and disappeared into the corridor. Max heard her yawn.

As his usual, he executed the supreme commander’s order at the best of his abilities, and the mission was successful: Zev didn’t stir during the short walk back to his room, the stuffed bantha did not slip to the floor, and both were laid down under a well-tucked blanket. As he smoothed the last creases on it, Max touched something polished and angular; the butt of the toy blaster. After a moment’s hesitation, he snuck it beneath the pillow. Just to be sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt: "exhausted parents kiss".
> 
> The song referenced is the sad and beautiful [_High Germany_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vsz4HA_EeEQ).


End file.
